


The Words Left Unsaid

by Eiran (Phynx)



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynx/pseuds/Eiran
Summary: There is a burning in Bond’s chest that is slowly clawing its way to his throat. His eyes are glued to the figure just a few paces away - tall and young and handsome - who is talking to Q with lust in his eyes.





	The Words Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Just a oneshot idea that came to mind.

 

#  **The Words Left Unsaid**

There is a burning in Bond’s chest that is slowly clawing its way to his throat. His eyes are glued to the figure just a few paces away - tall and young and handsome - who is talking to Q with lust in his eyes.

He is Henry Asheworth, a very successful businessman who deals with illegal firearms on the side. He was also their only way in on the very elusive arms dealer who had alarming illusions of grandeur, Zin.

Asheworth was known to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh no matter what gender, and the mission was supposed to be simple. Until Bond learned that he himself would not be seducing the mark but _Q_ of all people would.

Apparently, Asheworth’s preference in men were a bit more selective, and Bond did not fit his criteria. Q, on the other hand, fit all of Asheworth’s criteria and then some.

Bond didn't know how to feel about that.

Bond made to take another sip of his whisky, only to find that it was empty. Never taking his eyes off Q and the mark, he motioned with his hand to the bartender for a second glass.

He watches as Q’s chin tilts upwards and to the side, accentuating the smooth, pale curve of his neck. The mark’s eyes immediately zoom in on the area, his eyes smouldering.

Bond grabs the new glass of whisky and takes a large sip.

Q was playing the mark like a fiddle. Takinging advantage of the mark’s obvious interest, he coyly dangled the mark’s desires in front of him, only to cruelly pull away at the last moment.

Bond couldn't help but wonder where Q learned to do such a thing. How many lovers did he go through to master the fine art of seduction? Bond didn't want to know, but he also couldn't help but burn with a desire to hunt down every single person Q has been with. What was it about them that attracted Q’s attention enough to warrant his affections?

What was it about _him_ that didn't attract Q’s affection?

Bond took another large sip of whisky, finishing off his second glass.

Q and the mark start making their way to the building’s first floor, where the private bedrooms are. The mark wore this self-satisfied grin on his face, his hand possessively resting on Q’s lower back.

Bond grit his teeth and waved for another glass.

The bartender paused for a moment. ‘Can you afford so many glasses of this kind of whisky, sir?’

Bond glanced at the bottle of whisky he had been drinking. A flicker of something crossed his face before it smoothed out. ‘Yes, I can afford it.’

The bartender frowned in disbelief.

‘Just use this card and leave me be,’ Bond said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Satisfied, the bartender poured him another glass.

Q came down two hours later, his clothing crumpled and his hair a bit out of place. Immediately, he approached Bond.

‘Charlie,’ Q said to him in a falsely chipper voice. ‘I think you've had enough.’ Q looked closer at Bond’s face.  
  
He turned to the bartender. ‘How many glasses has he had?’

‘Seven,’ the bartender replied.

Q frowned at that. Bond was only supposed to drink three glasses and then act like he was intoxicated.

‘Come on Charlie,’ Q said, pulling him up and supporting his weight. ‘You've had far too many drinks.’ Q leaned in closer to Bond’s ear, ‘What were you thinking, Bond? Drinking that many glasses on such a sensitive mission? Especially with such expensive whisky?’

‘I don't see why I can't indulge if you can,’ Bond said harshly, his words slightly slurred. _Why not with me? Why with_ him?

‘Indulge? Is that what you think I—that I actually _enjoyed_ —’ Q stopped short, his face suddenly becoming worryingly blank.

They didn't speak another word the whole way back.


End file.
